


Cops in Toyland

by Arwyn



Series: Cops in Toyland [1]
Category: due South
Genre: First Time, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4002697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwyn/pseuds/Arwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The fact that he was half-hard and felt like he had ants crawling under his skin, making him itch and twitch and want to punch the hell out of something -- well, hell of a coincidence, that was all.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cops in Toyland

**Author's Note:**

> There was a murder at a convention, near a booth with a display of... items. Which Ray and Fraser are cataloging. Because I'm the author, that's why. (Pretty sure that's all the reason the show's writers ever gave for most of their police-procedure handwaving, so I figure I'm in decent company.)

Ray wasn’t turned on.

He wasn’t turned on because he wasn’t attracted to his partner, ‘cause that just wasn’t a thing a cop -- especially a cop like him -- was allowed to be, and second because he was at _work_ , in _public_ if you counted the people walking by outside the evidence room (two since they'd been down here, but that was more than zero) and its half-window door which he was definitely going to count, because he wasn’t turned on and wasn’t going to be.

The fact that he was half-hard and felt like he had ants crawling under his skin, making him itch and twitch and want to punch the hell out of something -- well, hell of a coincidence, that was all.

“Item thirty-four: What appears to be a remarkably overpriced riding crop. Highly shoddy workmanship -- do you see the stitching here, if we’re being so generous as to call it that? This wouldn’t last two hours’ proper use out on the trail, much less the far more rigorous use likely called for in, ah, the circumstances for which this was apparently--”

“Fraser!”

“Ah. Quite right.” Fraser cleared his throat, while Ray marked down “crop” on the inventory list and did not shift in his seat, and definitely didn’t hunch over a little more, because he wasn’t at all focused on how Fraser’s strong hand looked, wrapped around that leather, nor how Fraser, being a Mounted Police and all, must be really experienced in using it. Because he wasn’t.

“Item thirty-five: Silicone dildo, red, the Flare model I believe. Five point seven five inches, and sanitizable with a brief time in boiling water. They say sterilizable, but of course the difference between sanitize and sterilize--”

“Fraser, the court doesn’t care the difference unless that thing happens to have blood from the killer on it, which it don’t or it wouldn’t be in this pile, so the court still doesn’t care, so can we please stick to just naming the thing and moving the hell on? Think we can do that? So we can get the hell out of here sometime this decade?”

“Of course, Ray.”

“Right, okay. D-i-l-d-o, r-e-d. Next?”

“Ah, well, in the interest of specificity, it really would behoove us to mark that this particular model is silicone, with the--” _oh Jesus, he’s doing air quotes,_ “--’g-spot and p-spot flare’, would it not? After all, I can see that item one eighty seven could also be labeled as a red dildo, despite its remarkably dissimilar appearance in girth, material, and texture.”

Ray, who hadn’t been looking at his partner at all in the hour since they started this assignment-slash-punishment -- which he was shortening to Hell, capital H, from here on out -- found himself staring at Fraser’s open, earnest face. He couldn’t know this much about these things and still be this, this, this _annoying_ about it, all stupid smart commentary and not a single fucking bad joke to break the awkward tension, because this apparently wasn’t awkward for him, not at all, and Ray hated him so much, was burning with hate for him, was about to explode with how much he hated the guy right then -- but he wasn’t going to do anything about it, because he was a professional with a fucking job to do, even if it killed him, which it probably was going to, and way before item ‘one eighty seven’ the fucking rubber horse  dong. There was no way he was going to survive hearing Fraser describe that one, or a hundred of the others before they got there, he had to get out of there right now.

“I gotta go get a coffee.”

“Again? Really, Ray, if you’re having problems staying awake--”

Ray shut the door in his face, and fled.

 

***

“Item ninety-two: Vibrating nipple clamps, one pair, purple. Adjustable, though on the lighter range of pinch. Batteries -- ah, yes, batteries included.”

Ray probably wouldn’t have even noticed the _bzzzt_ as Fraser verified (because of course he did) that the clamps were fully functional, except his forehead was -- as it had been since item seventy-six and how the fuck did Fraser know what a violet wand was, _Ray_ hadn’t even known what a violet wand was -- pressed against the table, and when they were set down, still on, the surprise of that vibration jolted him up (his torso up, _he’d_ been fully up since he’d sat back down and they’d started up again, and he’d given up fighting it, he was just going to die here, just drop down dead any minute, and frankly, he was kinda looking forward to it, because at least then it would be _over_ ).

“Right, yeah, clamps, buzzing, weak, next?”

“Item ninety-three--”

“Wait, no, hold on, that is not a sex toy, there is no way that is a sex toy, that’s just a, a, a bundle of vines, what the hell --”

“Actually, Ray, although it’s somewhat surprising to find in an American collection, this is a traditional and well-loved product from Japan. The saponin contained within the fibers of the giant elephant ear plant are released when soaked in water before use, and reportedly stimulate blood flow to the areas it’s applied to.”

“I… okay, but I’m not putting down ‘soapy elephant twine’ here, Fraser.”

“Well, of course not, Ray. Item ninety-three: _higozuiki_ , unused.”

“Hugo what now?”

“ _Higozuiki_. H-i-g -- Just put traditional Japanese fibrous dildo, Ray.”

“‘Jap plant cock’, right.”

Fraser cleared his throat.

“‘Japanese’, okay, happy?”

“Yes, Ray. Shall we continue?”

“Yeah, sure, why not. Isn’t like either of us have anything better to do, right?”

Ray risked a glance out of the corner of his eye, and caught... something, some kind of look, something about the set of Fraser’s jaw, he couldn’t catch enough of it to tell before Fraser… smiled, not the polite smile, the “we’re getting through this because we are officers of the law and that is our duty” smile, no, this was something real-er, brighter, _dirtier_ , and Ray’s breath didn’t catch in his throat, because yeah he was the hardest he’d been in his _life_ , but he still wasn’t attracted to his partner, no matter what that voice and those hands and that hair and _Jesus_ that face did to him, that desert-dry wit and that whip-smart mind, and god he was dead, he was sunk, he needed some air, but all he got was another wave of that voice:

“Ah, an Njoy Pure Wand! You know, Ray, each wand is hand-polished, and I’ve never been able to find fault with the finish. The geometry of the curvature, whether using the smaller or the larger end, are simply a miracle of modern engineering, the partnership of art and science at its finest. It’s absolutely ideal for solo prostate stimulation or, I would assume, partner play.”

Ray didn’t come in his pants, if only because he hadn’t done that since the time with the bicycle when he was fifteen and he was pretty sure it was impossible now, with his thirty-five year old dick, and because if it was possible, he definitely would have just done it, with images of Fraser alone in his cot ( _at the Consulate, fuck!_ ), stretched out and sweaty, arms reaching down, that gleaming piece of metal sliding in and out of his --

“I… you… _are you doing this on purpose?!_ ”

“Doing what, Ray?”

And okay, the words were innocent, sure, but the voice was deeper than it had been yet, and Fraser’s hands clenched and rubbed the -- Christ! -- metal dildo he was holding, and his tongue, his tongue, _his tongue_ \--

\-- slid smooth and strong against Ray’s, didn’t even flinch as Ray grabbed his shirt, his face, his head, tight, fists pulling hair as Ray straddled his lap, thrust himself close against Fraser, and thank fuck, _thank fuck_ Fraser was hard too, and Ray ground down, lips open and panting and mouthing over Fraser’s face like he was fifteen again, horny and sex-stupid and drunk on Fraser’s moans, Fraser’s arms tight around him, Fraser’s legs flexing and pressing Fraser’s cock against his, and he barely noticed the loss of one of Fraser’s arms from around him, because that tongue was back in his mouth, back where it belonged, dirty from hours spent mouthing those obscene words, and Ray was going to suck every last drop of knowledge from it --

The _clang!_ as Fraser dropped the heavy toy back on the metal table jerked Ray upright, brought back to full awareness of where they were -- where he was, which was in his partner’s lap, next to the windowed door, in a building full of cops -- and he stopped. He stopped moving, one hand fisted around Fraser’s shirt and suspender, one cupping his neck and shoulder. He didn’t let go, because he couldn’t, and they couldn’t be doing this, and this couldn’t be real, and the contradiction was going to kill him even faster than the torture of not doing it had been. He stared at Fraser who stared at him, both of their chests heaving, both of their cocks still throbbing against each other.

“Fuck.”

He could feel the rumble of Fraser’s answer in his fist, in every point they were touching: “Not here.”

He was across the room almost before he knew it, pacing and grabbing his own hair, hands shaking.

“Where, Fraser? Huh? Nowhere, that’s what, ‘cause we can’t, I, but you, I mean, we _can’t_ \--”

“We can, Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, look at me. We can. Not here, obviously, but we can. And I want to. With you.”

“...Are you sure I’m not dreaming right now, Fraser? Or, uh, maybe you’re, uh, you’re hallucinating?”

Fraser’s lips quirked up. “I suppose it’s possible, Ray, although in my experience, you generally don’t run away at this point in the dream.”

Fraser was serious. He was joking, yeah, but in that deadly-serious way of his, and Ray didn’t know what to _do_ with that.

“Fraser, we’re… I mean, we’re cops, we’re--”

“Partners.”

“-- not supposed to have the hots for each other, we’re--”

“Partners.”

“--definitely not supposed to, to, to do what you said, to do, shit, anything with these things except tag and bag ‘em, and--”

“And we’re partners, Ray. And I certainly wasn’t suggesting we misuse the evidence. But, it’s the end of your shift. We can lock up here, leave the rest of this for tomorrow, and you can take me back to your apartment.”

Ray could feel his resolve crumbling. It was the Fraser Effect -- the man had so much determination and persuasion he could talk the Cubs into winning, and he was very nearly done talking Ray into making what he was sure was a very bad decision, but he couldn’t remember why. Something about work, or regulations, or, or --

“Fraternization! I mean, you’re all about the rules, right, Fraser? I’m pretty sure the CPD has some pretty strongly worded rules against partners, um… partnering like this.”

Fraser’s eyes never left his -- did he always stare at Ray like that? it didn’t feel strange, and it should have, but it wasn’t, and how come they weren’t busted for inappropriate conduct way before now? -- as he started walking, slowly, toward Ray.

“I’ve given that some thought, Ray, and while you’re correct, the Chicago Police Department, like many others including the RCMP, have fairly strong words to say about employee conduct within the department, I’m very happy to report that I don’t work for the city of Chicago.”

Fraser was in front of him, so close, and how was he still coming closer?

“And last I checked, you were not employed by the RCMP. Neither organization’s rules and regulations -- and Ray, please trust that I checked… thoroughly…”

Ray swallowed at the feel of Fraser’s breath on his cheek.

“-- neither of them say anything about those who are partners through an unofficial liaison relationship, such as ours.”

“You, uh… you checked, huh?”

“Yes, Ray.”

“Isn’t that, I mean, kinda going against the spirit of the law there, Frase?”

“Ray, I want you to know that I mean this with deepest sincerity: _I don’t fucking care._ ”

There was no way Ray could touch him right then, not and make it out of that room still employed and with the evidence uncontaminated.

“Out! Out, out, out, go, out, gotta lock up, gotta, where’s your coat, where’s my jacket, keys, gotta have -- gotta get -- Fraser, what’m I forgetting? Right, thanks.” He scrawled a signature on the clipboard hanging outside the door, figuring if it was the wrong name Fraser’d say something, and then they didn’t run, they did not run to the door, but they were striding in step, jogging down the stairs, and as Ray was unlocking the car, he asked:

“So, uh. You mind if we make a stop first? Um, like, maybe to the Consulate?”

And he knew Fraser was also thinking about gleaming metal, about sweat and salt and the feel of stainless steel in his hands, when he smiled and replied, “Ray, it would be my pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> All the items described and mentioned are very real sex toys. Google at your own risk.
> 
> Beta, handholding, encouragement, prodding, and half the toy suggestions (including most definitely the higozuiki) by HereEatThisKitten.


End file.
